


Sometimes, I worry about you

by Intruality_Overlord



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27376276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Intruality_Overlord/pseuds/Intruality_Overlord
Summary: Patton and Virgil have a chat.TW: Virgil is ftm but closeted and Patton doesn’t know so there is deadnaming, and Patton and Virgil both allude to having suicidal thoughts, and this is kinda a vent fic
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Kudos: 12





	Sometimes, I worry about you

**Author's Note:**

> This is quite an old fic by now (by my standards meaning my writing has improved a lot I think since I wrote this), but I’m just archiving everything here, moving it from Wattpad so yeah. Welp I hope you enjoy anyway!
> 
> (That does *not* mean I am not still open to criticism though btw.)

Heat beat down on us, squeezing sweat out of us like clothes in a dryer.

P.E. Physical education. Exercise. The worst compulsory class in school. Why must the school system torture us this way?

Well, at least our class was the accumulation of our year's musicians, artists, and nerds, so our teacher didn't expect us to run more than two laps around the courts everyday. We weren't expected to play actual sports either, which was... still torture, but a good compromise.

I swear my body wasn't designed for this.

Sun, I know you stop us all from freezing to death and give life to the planet in the first place, but fuck you. I didn't ask to be alive in the first place, and then you punished me for being so. How dare you. Then again, I can accept that you were trying to fix the mistake of supporting my life on this plane of existence. Exploiting my weakness to summer weather, working as an accomplice with my P.E teacher. How my legs hadn't stopped functioning yet with every drop of water evaporating out of my system, I didn't know.

Good thing you were in my class. You almost made me look forward to P.E. I don't think I would've tried if you weren't. I knew you didn't consider me a friend. More someone you could talk to whenever I happened to be there and it was convenient. Yet, I was always excited to see you. If you didn't want to talk, or even look at me, fine. Being around you was enough, but I was very glad whenever we partnered up like that day.

I bent down to pick up the soft, rainbow "dodgeball" that had rolled away— again! Stupid butter fingers. Trudging back to you, I paused before I passed the ball back to you. I was aiming, I swear! The wind blew it to the left— it was a light ball!

Frustration lazily spilled out of me through a low groan, like a cake rising over the tin too much. It was so simple! Pass the ball back and forth, take a step back if you catch the ball, or take a step forwards if you drop/miss it. We started four meters apart.

There was only three meters between us. My glasses need checking, I told myself, and that sun bitch is glaring in my eyes!

"It's so hot I feel like I want to die!" I complained. Ball in hand, you caught my eyes with yours full of exasperation. "No you don't. You don't know what wanting to die feels like," you said, passing the ball back. Miraculously, I caught it, ironically as soon as I stopped paying attention.

I giggled to cover up a scoff. "Yeah, I think I do, Violet," I said, underlined in joking sarcasm. I knew plenty about wanting to die. Oh, if only you knew.

You looked at me, completely deadpanning.

"No, you don't."

Clutching the ball to my chest, I forgot to throw it. It felt like a dare.

"Yeah," I said surely, "I do." The rainbow of the ball tempted my gaze away, but I still kept you in sight through my eyelashes. My eyebrows raised, daring.

"No," you said, with a force in your voice naming my words a mockery. Force in your voice that prodded at my certainty. It wobbled, but it planted itself right back in it's spot.

"You don't, Patton."

And I knew what you were thinking: Oh, if only you knew.

And I did know.

I know.

Sometimes, I worry about you.


End file.
